


A Noble Request

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-17
Updated: 2006-07-17
Packaged: 2019-01-19 11:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12409569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Pansy never wanted to be in this situation, but she had to be. If she is going to protect the one she loves, there is no way around it. Warning: Deals with rape, but does not describe it.





	A Noble Request

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author’s Note:** I found this short story in one of my folders. I wrote it last spring, as an inspiration for the Scrivenshaft challenge (I can’t remember exactly which cycle), but was too late to submit it. So I rediscovered it, got it beta’d, and decided to post it! This is actually my very first genfic, so here goes … 

-

A Noble Request

_Written by Psykiapa_

 

Mr. Borgin was behind his desk, as usual, when she walked through the door. The bell clanged tiredly, a rusty sound of iron and disappointment. When his eyes lifted from the counter, a flash of sharp recognition and anticipation lit his face with greed. Pansy tried her best to keep her hands from shaking, and clutched her purse closely. She forced the corners of her lips to turn up in a sultry smirk and tried not to wobble on her heels.

“Hello, Miss Parkinson, how can I help you today?”

Even his voice was oily.

“Actually, I have a favor to ask of you,” she said as primly as she could, stepping gingerly around Dark objects that had spilled onto the floor.

A slow, greasy smile oozed across his features.

“Any noble request you could make, and I’d be happy to oblige.” The look in his eyes was positively feral.

“I would ask you not to sell anything to one Draco Malfoy,” Pansy said sharply, and she was surprised to hear the words echo through the room. Mr. Borgin’s smile turned condescending.

“And why, exactly, would I want to restrict my business so stupidly?” His laugh was a bark. “You are pretty, my dear, but not that pretty.”

Pansy’s eyes hardened and her perfectly manicured fingernails dug into her palms, 10-sickle hands balled into fists. Her breaths quickened, and she glanced around the shop to make sure they were completely alone.

“Because if you don’t, you will find yourself in Azkaban for rape, pedophilia, and sexual harassment!” she hissed, trying her best not to scream as he leaned over the counter, a lingering stench of last night’s booze pervading him still.

“How do you think that your word is any better than mine? You can’t even do magic outside of school yet!”

“I am willing to testify with memory, Veritaserum, and eyewitness accounts. I’ve been building a case for the past six months.”

“Prove it,” he sneered.

Pansy hastily undid the latch on her handbag and dug through its contents, shoving aside her tubes of lipstick and make-up, past the Portkey that Theodore Nott had helped her create. His mother had overseen the whole process, covering for their use of underage magic. They had been careful not to reveal their intent to her. Theo’s parents were known Death Eaters, and this was a delicate matter. Her hands started to shake. _Oh god, surely it’s there …_

She finally found the picture and held it up for Borgin to see. He gasped, and she felt a bit of triumph thrill through her veins.

“Do you remember that day, Mr. Borgin?” she asked lightly.

She remembered it well, that second rape. Once she had distanced herself from the first rape, she had followed Blaise’s urging to research rape laws and cases. So when her father had heartlessly told her to return to the shop and get something for him, she had brought Blaise along to take photographs. Predictably, he had advanced again, and Blaise was only thing that had kept Pansy from screaming her throat raw.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, eyes darting around nervously.

“That second time you raped me, I brought my friend to take photographs. I thought you might like to keep that one, for nostalgia’s sake.”

“You bitch!” 

“That’s actually one of the tamer photographs,” she continued, ignoring him. “If Bl – my friend hadn’t had any experience with sex before he probably wouldn’t have been able to do this for me. So it’s come down to two things, in my mind. This, or you could honor my request.”

Mr. Borgin’s mouth worked feverishly for a few minutes, furious with her for being so dangerous a temptation.

“And still you hesitate,” Pansy muttered, taking a step closer to him. Borgin’s angry gaze left the picture and landed on her face. She had him right where she wanted him, standing there in furious confusion, crippled. A smirk spread across her lips, and suddenly she felt like a spider. A deadly black widow. So this is why Blaise’s mum kept it up ... “Do you know what the consequences are for rape alone? Without my added charges?”

“Yes,” he spat, eyes shifty and shoulders tense.

“So how can you resist the opportunity to be saved from them?” Her eyes narrowed evilly, but as his anger focused on her, she cowered inwardly.

“Of course I accept!”

“I thought you would.”

“What are the terms?” he sneered.

She rested her elbow on the table and held up a hand, open, ready for him to take it.

“Swear to me that you will not allow Draco Malfoy to buy anything from your shop without my explicit approval. In return for your loyalty, I won’t turn you in to the authorities to be tried for rape, pedophilia, and sexual harassment.”

His haggard mouth turned down at the corners, and, glaring from two pistol-shot eyes, he took her hand.

“I swear that I will not allow Draco Malfoy to purchase anything from my shop until you have given me permission. I understand my end of the bargain completely.”

“Done,” she whispered, and she started to turn away. 

He didn’t let her hand go. He crushed it and spun her around again. His breath stank as he pulled her closer. Her heart beat rapidly against her chest, her breath heaving. She struggled to get away, but he had forced her against the desk, and his other hand had pressed a knife to her throat.

If she started to hyperventilate, he would be able to kill her.

“Now you listen here, bitch! If you worm your way out of your side of the deal, if I hear even one _whisper_ that you plan to kill me, I will hunt you down and slit your fucking throat! Now get the hell out of my shop!” He growled, and threw her off the counter, turning to go into the back room as Pansy stared after him. Her breath fluttered to a slow, and bile rose in her throat. He lit a cigarette and glanced over his shoulder at her, and she forced herself to turn and walk quickly out of the shop.

It wasn’t until she had walked farther down Knockturn Alley that she allowed herself to run. She sped past a man who was weaving his way down the alley, and her feet quickened their pace and she slapped at the tears running down her face, and choked back a sob. Her ankles started to wobble, but she had to keep going … she couldn’t stop now …

Wheeling around a corner and falling to her knees, Pansy vomited until she didn’t have anything left in her. Clutching her stomach and weeping, she waited out the last of her dry heaves. She sat there, rocking, the tears washing the sloppy bits of mess off her cheeks. She didn’t know how much time has passed, but eventually she was able to stand on shaky legs and grasp inside her purse for the Portkey.

The jerk just below her naval was almost a relief. With an undignified yelp, she crashed to the floor of Blaise’s home. Her two friends rushed forward, and she crawled over to them, dry sobs escaping her and Blaise shared a dark look with Theo over her head. Theo took her in his arms, and whispered something into her hair.

“How did it go?” Blaise asked.

“H-he accepted,” she whispered. 


End file.
